And the Moon Smiled Down
by Pennatus
Summary: Legato x Wolfwood. Prison is a cold and lonely place, and Legato is utterly bored with it. But then comes along a man that begins to change things...
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I KNOW this ending is very, very abrupt. Don't comment on it - I WILL BE POSTING MORE.

See, due to unfortunate circumstances (meaning the fact I got a PS3 for Christmas and was playing Assassin's Creed for most of the past week or two, and the fact that for the past two days I've been at a friend's house, making story writing very difficult) I haven't gotten around the finishing the story. It is close to completion, but not quite done. So I'm going to post it in two parts even though I really don't want to. Why? Well, it's because I promised to have this story up by the end of the year, and it is alarmingly close to that date. So I'm doing this mainly so I won't break a promise to you guys.

On a happier and less confusing note, I'd like the dedicate this story to my amazing and totally crazy friend Erin. She's the only one who actually bothered to constant nag me to write this story. Thank you, Erin. Thank you very much.

FIRST LEGATO X WOLFWOOD ON FANFIC! W00T!

Disclaimer: I own nothing and get no profit from this.

Enjoy.

--

Legato didn't look up when the door to his room opened then shut and footsteps clicked against the dull gray concrete floor. He didn't even bother to open his eyes as he heard the soft rustle of clothes approach the glass that formed one of the walls of his prison cell.

So the first thing he knew of the man who would soon change his life forever was his voice.

"Hey. Mind if I light up?"

I took him a moment to register the words themselves, because Legato had trouble absorbing the voice and tone. It was slightly coarse and rough, but over that it managed to speak of confidence and ease in his bearing, a silky, promising undertone (or was that just Legato's imagination?), and underneath it all a subtle threat of violence should any person dare to cross him. It spoke of a lifetime of hardships that had only strengthened him and of his willingness to take life head-on. It whispered of self-assurance, poise, grace, and something else, darker, deeper, something Legato knew quite well.

Legato rolled over and opened his eyes just a fraction to catch a glimpse of the person that voice belonged to.

What he saw was not what he expected.

The man standing outside of his cell was of average height – or, at least, he would be if he wasn't slouching. He had black hair, cut short and set mussed upon his head. He had defined featured and the shadow of a beard on his face. The deep blue suit and pants looked rumpled, as though he had slept in his clothes, but somehow this only added to his rugged appearance. An unlit cigarette hung between his slightly parted lips and his hands, jammed into his pockets, made no move to light it. And when he lifted his head and his unwavering, unending pool of dark blue met Legato's piercing golden eyes, the corners of the man's lips lifted slightly and he raised a hand in a mock salute.

The two exchanged glances for a few seconds before Legato rolled back over and closed his eyes, perfectly satisfied with the companionship of the darkness behind his eyelids. It was just another human scum infesting the planet, just like Legato himself. He didn't deserve to live, even if his voice and bearing and posture and those _eyes_ were so…unique.

Legato curled tighter on the stone slab they called a bed, wishing he could die or at least be let out, wishing that they would just leave him alone, wishing he could get the image of that man out of his thoughts.

"I'm going to take that as a no." This was followed by the clink of a ligter and the intoxicating scent of the lit cigarette. Legato had always liked cigarettes. He wouldn't ever smoke one himself, of course – he thought they tasted disgusting. No, it was everything else about them that he liked – the face that they killed millions of people, the scent of those deadly hanging in the air, eating away at his insides even now. Both of those things gave him a little rush of satisfaction every time someone around him smoked (_satisfaction_ because Legato had never experienced the foreign emotion humans called happiness).

"Legato Bluesummers," came the husky voice from outside his cell. "Committed to a lifetime sentence in prison because of mass murder. Found guilty and locked up in a slightly better then normal cell because you lawyer said you were insane and needed 'special treatment'." Legato heard the man slowly exhale. "Well, I'm the special treatment they ordered. Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service. The newest of your councilors in," a slight chuckle was inserted here, low and deep, "a _long_ list of them." The man – should I call him Nicholas or Wolfwood? Legato wondered – paused, seemingly waiting for a reply. When he didn't get one, however, he didn't seem annoyed. They never did – at least, not in the beginning.

"I want to be very clear. I am not afraid of you. I have seen my share of murderers, psychos, crazies, rapists, pedophiles – the list goes on, but you get my point. I was not afraid of them, nor will I feel any fear in your presence. I will not cower against the wall if you start going into gruesome details of your last kill, nor will I be particularly impressed. I am not, moreover, going to be afraid of your sick enjoyment that you take from kill, so if you can, please refrain from attempting to tell me about it."

Legato felt his nails dig into his palm as he angrily clenched his fist. /You compare me to those ants?!?/ He wanted to scream. /I am a thousand times better then them! They have nothing but sickening human emotions, but I have a purpose, a reason! I may not enjoy killing, as you presume, but I know it has to be done to rid the world of sniveling little pathetic beings like you!/ however, even as he thought it, he knew it was just another trick, another ploy to get him to turn around and engage this "Wolfwood" (Legato refused to think they were on a first name basis) in conversation. Legato was used to these people's tricks by now. Acknowledge them, and they would have their fist hook sunk into you. Ignore them, and eventually they would grow frustrated and leave.

"Tough one, aren't you? But they told me all about that. It doesn't matter to me if you talk, you know. Everyone has a story to tell, even if they don't use words to share it." He heard the man slide along the glass wall to sit on the floor and take another deep breath of his cancerous stick. "However long it takes, Legato, I'll be waiting for you."

Astonishingly, the man actually fell silent. Legato knew this one as well. Apparently, if two people in a room didn't talk for a long while, one of them would feel the overwhelming urge to fill the blessed silence with their meaningless chatter. Legato didn't quite understand this theory, as he himself preferred quiet over any type of noise, but it was certainly amusing to watch the foolish human grow quickly uncomfortable in the stillness and nervously begin to talk, or, worse, hum tunelessly to themselves. Of course, it was infinitely more amusing to turn his piercing yellow gaze on them and watch as they fidgeted under his harsh gaze and finally scurry away spouting lame excuses.

But somehow…somehow Legato got a feeling that that wouldn't work with this man.

Legato waited, eyes closed, his patience endless, for his new counselor to slip up and speak, or, better, for him to get fed up and leave. He was a little surprised to find that, even with the stranger resting his back on one of his prison walls, he was at ease in the other's presence. Normally having someone this close and separated from him by only a thick sheet of clear glass made his skin crawl all over, made him feel like there was an itch between his shoulder blades he couldn't quite reach and the only way to relieve it was to wrap his pale fingers around the other's neck and just _squeeze_ until the life fled from their eyes and another human was forever gone.

Oddly enough, though, Legato didn't feel remotely like that, and this placid reaction frightened him. He tried to write it off as a side effect of the drugs, but deep inside, he knew the truth – he didn't truly want to kill this man.

Legato swallowed and tried to ignore his inner want, no, need, to know who this man was, to understand him and this bizarre feeling, to simply look at him again, and remained curled up upon his bed, staring resolutely at the wall. /I don't need him,/ he found himself saying. /I don't need anyone. I'm just a filthy human and so is he! All we do is waste and exploit the areas we live in and then move on. There is nothing to our lives except reproducing and killing! He's just as bad as the rest of them! He – /

Legato stopped his thoughts when he realized he was just trying to convince himself of a lie. It did not matter what he thought of this man, for his thoughts were nothing, nothing at all in the grand scheme of things. He would die eventually, just like all the other humans.

-.-

Legato woke with a start and stared, disconcerted, at the gray wall in front of his eyes and struggled to comprehend a feeling he felt lingering in his gut. His eyes widened slightly as he recalled the evening and, without really realizing what he was doing, he turned over and let his eyes take in the sight before him.

The room was empty.

Legato let his eyes linger on the abandoned room. And, for the first time he could remember, he could truly apply the adjective "abandoned" to anything. Before now, he hadn't saw his punishment as punishing, really – he liked the solitude of his cell. The only thing he hated was the endless string of irritating counselors.

But now…something was different. Something – and he did not know what (not yet) – had changed. The room truly felt confining – Legato fought against the sudden, alarming, almost overpowering urge to beat his fists against these walls and scream all of his frustrations and agony until his voice broke and he could speak no more. Still he stared at the empty room, the feelings he didn't know he had in confused turmoil.

He didn't understand it. How could one man cause this? How could one man tear away his carefully constructed core to reveal…well, reveal whatever was underneath, that not even Legato himself knew about? It was unthinkable, that he, that _any_ man, could…could…

Legato clutched his head with his hands. Thoughts, that's all these were. Thoughts, irrepressible, irresponsible, mocking. Clouded, worthless, human thoughts. They were nothing, nothing.

Legato forced his body to relax, closing his eyes, and succumbing to the peaceful lull of slumber. That's right. Nothing. He was nothing, his thoughts were nothing, and he could sleep content in that knowledge.

.

The man visited almost every day, sometimes staying an hour or two, sometimes staying only a few minutes, and always leaving behind the lingering smell of tobacco and an even more annoying feeling that Legato was beginning to identify as regret. For what he was no quite sure, although he was beginning to suspect…

Three weeks and four days from their first day, his new counselor stepped into his cell and took up his position sitting against his wall, cigarette already lit and in place. He didn't say anything, as usual, and Legato marveled at this man's patience and preserverance. Didn't that single act set him apart, make him different from the rest, showed that maybe Legato could relate to this man?

Legato wasn't sure, but he was strangely eager to find out.

"Who are you, really…?" He found his lips moving, to his surprise, his voice and thought exposed. He coughed a few times, unused to saying words aloud, his voice harsh from disuse and the smoke he had been inhaling everyday. He swallowed thickly and fell silent.

A few seconds later, the thick cloud of smoke lightenede and Legato realized that the cigarette had been extinguised. He waited for either the man to light another one or for him to leave, and was confused when neither occurred. They had established a subtle and almost unnoticeable pattern, the man and his smoking and Legato and his silence, and any break made Legato wary of the other man. He felt himself tensing as the smoke gradually cleared, the toxic mist gone and revealing things Legato would rather leave hidden. He heard the man let out one last smoke-laden breath and shift slightly. Legato released a small, shuddering breath, feeling the panic rise from the change in his situation. He hated not being in control, not knowing what the man's exact thoughts were. His fingers twitched as he gripped his forearms tightly, eyes widening. Let it go back to normal, let him leave, just let him have control again –

A rap on his glass wall startled him. Cautiously he lifted his head.

Wolfwood lifted two fingers and grinned in a strange sort of acknowledgment. Legato watched, a touch confused, as the man hauled himself to his feet, gave the glass a friendly tap and Legato himself a wink, and leisurely exited.

Legato turned his eyes back to the wall, but he heard the door creaking shut as the man took his leave.

/That man confuses me./ His eyes attempted to pierce the wall, with no success. /I don't like that./

His fingers clenched into a fist.

/I want some answers./

-.-

The next time his counselor enter, Legato was sitting up on his bed. His gaze was focused on the opposite wall, and he was resting against the wall, but both knew his pose was far from casual.

Wolfwood sat in a different-then-usual pose as well, cross-legged and facing the clear sheet of glass instead of leaning against it. He leveled his own gaze straight ahead, and, surprisingly, did not light up a cigarette. Legato decided to ignore his inconsistency.

The two sat quietly for a moment, waiting for the other to speak. Finally Legato let his eyes flicker over to his "counselor" and was not astounded when the man calmly met his look, as thought he had known the instant Legato was going to look over.

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow and motioned his hand, as if saying 'you first'.

Legato continued to gaze into those calm blue depths.

Wolfwood laughed, rubbing the stubble on his chin and speaking to Legato for the first time in many weeks.

"All right." He paused. "Did you want to ask me something…?"

The question hung between them, more like an invitation then a challenge. Legato calculated for a moment. Did he truly want to do this? Did he want to succumb? Did he want this man to succeed where so many had failed?

Did he want to exist while knowing nothing about this man…?

"Who…" He voice broke, and for a minute he couldn't stop the coughs racking his body, brought on by the thick smoke clogging his lungs for the past three weeks and the lack of talking outlining his last year. Finally, he forced himself to stop hacking for a moment to ask, "Who are you?"

Wolfwood watched and didn't respond, an odd look on his face that Legato couldn't begin to understand. "Are you all right?"

Swallowing thickly, Legato stared at Wolfwood for a long moment, trying to decipher the look he was giving him. Then, suddenly, he understood, and it only made him more bewildered.

It was concerned. His councelor was looking at him with _concern_.

Legato attempted to register this, but it was unthinkable. Someone looking at him with concern was alien, rare, atypical, something that Legato was fairly sure had never happened to him before. Most people looked at him with pity or disgust, maybe even fear, or some mix of the three. Never had someone even gazed at him with anything even resembling concern.

But most of the time it didn't matter how people looked at him. They were just people, scum, masses to be slaughter. In fact, he couldn't think of a time when a look had mattered at all to him.

…that was, until now.

"Answer my question," Legato demanded, his voice hoarse but usable.

Wolfwood smiled, but somehow Legato could sense the worry underneath the façade. "I'm Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Your councelor."

Legato scowled, unsatisfied with the answer. "You know what I mean. Answer the question," he repeated.

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I understand you."

Legato just narrowed his eyes. /Don't play coy, man. I know you understand me perfectly well./

Wolfwood's smile spread, as though he had caught Legato's thoughts. He rubbed his forehead, and answered, "Let's just say I'm not so different from you, hmm?"

"Why would you be?"

Wolfwood appeared at a loss. "Why would I be what?"

"Different from me."

Wolfwood furrowed his brows. "Everyone's different. So, thus, I must be different from you. But I'm saying – "

"No," Legato interrupted, "you're wrong." He was slightly disappointed. This man didn't know anything. Legato had found that if they didn't know of the true idea, his idea, then they couldn't be made to accept.

"Why am I wrong?"

Legato began talking, even though the effort was futile. "All humans are the same fundamentally – thieving, lying souls. There are no differences. We are all the identical, each as horrible as the person next to them."


	2. Chapter 2

Whew. It's done.

I'm fairly happy, although this story and I have a love/hate/love relationship, meaning I love the beginning, hate the middle, and love the ending. Ehh, guess it's what I should've expected though, huh?

This story was inspired by this picture:

http://media(DOT)photobucket(DOT)com/image/legato%20wolfwood/Legaato/LWlegato(DOT)jpg?o=1

Put periods in for the (DOT), obviously. And in case you were wondering, that scene is in the story, at the end in the making-out scene. Oh yes. There's one in there. I hope you enjoy it.

Again this is dedicated to Erin, who forced me to sit down and type this up. Now that I think about it, should I really be thanking her for it...?!?

Please, read AND REVIEW! And enjoy!!!

--

For an instant, Legato entertained the thought that this man's expression meant he was at least considering his idea, but he quickly discarded the hope. No one understood him, and no one ever would.

Slowly, Wolfwood nodded. "Yes, I see what you mean."

Legato stared, disbelieving.

"But wouldn't you also agree that while human nature is, essentially, the same in everyone, aren't personalities the things that set us apart?"

Legato continued to stare, not believing that his counselor would even consider his point of view, but I seemed his mouth was going on a tangent. "Maybe that's true, but what does it matter?"

Wolfwood leaned back, a slight smile on his face. "You think it doesn't matter? Why not?"

"Because interactions between humans and their results don't matter," Legato replied, a little impatiently. "Since we're all technically the same, what the conversations and thoughts between humans matter?"

"But what about this conversation?"

Legato blinked. "What?"

"It's because of my personality you decided to talk to me and not the other councilors, and because of that it affected both your life and mine. Doesn't that mean that people and how they interact is important? Both to you, and to others?"

Legato was still. He saw the logic and reasoning behind the man's comments, but he was unwilling to accept the fact that the idea he had fought for his entire life had been wrong, even if the man agreed with the basics.

Wolfwood shrugged, rolling his shoulders in a casual manner. "For now, don't worry about it. Just…think it over." He grinned. "So, I hear the food in this joint is terrible. What do you think?"

-=-

The next few weeks passed surprisingly fast for Legato. Now when his councilor would enter they would discuss everything from weather to education and the changing technology. Wolfwood himself did most of the talking, which seemed to suit both of them just fine. He could listen to the other man's voice ramble on for hours.

It also gave Legato an opportunity to analyze the man who had so carefully pierced through his glass wall. Wolfwood had a tendency to intertwine his judgment and ideas throughout his news, essentially providing a running commentary of modern news, an idiosyncrasy that Legato found strangely fascinating. It also provided Legato with plenty of information that he could use to study this strangely intriguing man.

He thought little of politics in general, once dismissing it by saying it was the sport of old rich men, adding that politician shouldn't be an accepted job choice in the United States. He seemed to be particularly fond of various churches and ministries scattered across the states, mentioning once that he had been a priest for a while before some "issues" forced him out of the trade (he had said this line with a grimace, his fingers automatically quoting the word issues). The fact that such a cynical and mocking man was once a priest struck Legato as ironic, and he said so at one point.

"Ironic?" Wolfwood had laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. Even God has a sense of humor."

"You just don't seem the type," Legato informed him.

Wolfwood smiled, but it looked somehow sad. "You don't seem the type to hold a decent conversation for any amount of time, and yet here we are. It's easy to judge, but difficult to truly know a person."

Legato couldn't argue with that statement anymore.

Wolfwood knew little to nothing about celebrities and other popular idols in general, but he seemed to know a surprisingly amount about people who (according to him) actually mattered – rich, influential people, certain politicians (contrary to previous statements), and people who had the power to influence the masses. ("One word: Oprah").

"One person can change the world, but what people don't understand is that most of the time they aren't even trying. They're just out there, doing their best to survive. Major events and changes are always triggered by smaller, more isolated proceedings – occurrences that are done by a single person or a small group. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that Christopher Columbus founded the United States. We both know he didn't. In fact, the only thing he did was realize that the world might be bigger then everyone thought it was and that, by itself, isn't that big of an accomplishment. But Europeans began traveling to this New World, and after centuries a rebellion was sparked and a new nation was formed."

"But what about all the people in between those two actions?" asked Legato. "Are you saying they do not matter?"

"Rungs on a ladder, Legato."

"What?"

As Wolfwood spoke he gestured animatedly. "In any event, anything that happens in this world, there is a series of smaller events leading up to it. Each event is a rung on the ladder that leads to the main event. To have a strong ladder, you have to have every single rung."

"But is every rung truly required to reach the top?"

Wolfwood shrugged, spreading his hands. "Then we start questioning what would've happened if that person died or if that other thing hadn't happened, and in my opinion that crosses the line from theory into speculation. What happened in the past is never going to change. And while it's interesting to think about what could've been, it's more important to look ahead and concentrate on the future instead of lingering on the past."

Legato couldn't agree more.

Besides those conversations, Wolfwood often commented on "rising technology".

"It's amazing," Legato exclaimed at one point, eyes sparkling. "It's like our society is becoming something from a sci fi movie. In just the few years you've been here, technology has come a long way."

Legato watched his enthusiasm with quiet amusement.

One day, something changed.

Legato did not know exactly what was wrong, but he could sense his unease as soon as Wolfwood walked in.

No, he realized. Not unease. Anger. Untainted, smoldering, white-hot anger, the emotion so pure and unfettered and crystal clear that couldn't help but stare in astonishment. This emotion was like the sun, blindingly bright, uncluttered by other rays or emotions. He cannot remember the last time he felt such fierceness from a single individual, the last time a person had a single emotion that was so unencumbered.

He found it strangely refreshing.

Legato watched as Wolfwood sat in his usual spot, placing his hands on his knees. His councilor's face was completely blank, but that was only another inclination of his anger. Those usually calm, deep blue-grey oceans raged silently, a storm contained.

Suddenly Wolfwood sighed, placing a hand over his eyes.

"I seriously need to shoot something," he mumbled, so low that Legato knew it wasn't meant for his ears.

Still, he couldn't help but overhear the comment. He could easily imagine Wolfwood with a gun in his hand, something small but medium caliber, like a pistol. He could imagine the gun firing, the blood splattering, the crimson making beautiful patterns, oh, he could see it now, the scent of death, sharp and bitter in the air –

He became aware of the look leveled at him, and stopped the gentle twitching of his lips.

Instead, he returned the gaze and said, "Is something wrong?"

Wolfwood raised an eyebrow. "Wrong? Why?"

"I could feel your anger. It was…" Legato suppressed a shiver. "…quite strong."

Wolfwood continued to stare at Legato, although he had the feeling his councilor couldn't truly see him. "…hmm. Yes." Suddenly he frowned. "Do you think you've changed, Legato?"

Legato blinked, startled at the abruptness of the comment. "What?"

"Do you think you've changed since meeting me?"

Legato remained silent in the face of this question.

Had he…changed? What did he mean by "change"? he was fairly sure his mind was still his own. That is, the though of destroying the human race still pleased him and seemed like a worthy goal.

And yet…and yet. He couldn't imagine killing the man still gazing at him, somehow. Did that mean he was weak? That was technically a change, even if it was a negative one. Is that what he meant?

"I…" Legato said finally. "I'm not sure. I think…I think I've changed."

Wolfwood sighed again, but a slight smile rested on his lips. "You're not just saying that, aren't you?"

Legato was confused. "I just said it, yes."

Wolfwood finally grinned, running a hand through his hair. "You're really something, you know that?"

"Yes, I know."

"Are you boasting?"

"It was not my intention."

Legato heard it at last, that low, deep-throated chuckle. For some reason, it gave him the same thrill as the pleasant image of someone dying.

"What do you think of this place?"

"I don't understand the question."

"I mean…you can't enjoy being locked up here, can you?"

"No," Legato began, and quickly cut off the rest of his sentence: /but my situation has improved since you came./

"No?"

"No, I don't enjoy being locked up. But if you want to protect humans – " though Legato couldn't begin to comprehend why – "then it makes sense that I should be imprisoned."

"Hmm." Those grey blue eyes, like clouds reflected on the ocean, pierced him. "And would you begin killing again if you got out?"

Legato's lips parted. Of course the answer was yes, he wanted to say, but his throat seized and he couldn't speak.

/Why?/ he thought, frustrated. /Why couldn't I answer? Why do the words that I want to say, that I've been saying without hesitation for years, dry up when I talk to him? Why do my words seem inadequate, when they're all I've had? Why does this man make me question all I've lived for?/

/Why…?/

"I don't know," was all he could answer.

Wolfwood smiled slightly. He seemed infinitely more satisfied with that answer then Legato.

Mildly irritated but mostly bemused, Legato watched as Wolfwood rose, winked at him, and exited.

-.0

Legato woke, staring disconsolately at the grey wall in front of him. Something had awoken him.

Something…

He sat up in astonishment as the door that opened into his cell creaked open and a familiar face peered at him.

"Any day now," Wolfwood told him matter-of-factly.

"What are you doing?" hissed Legato, climbing to his feet.

"Why, I'm breaking you out of jail, of course. I thought I'd take you on a picnic. What d'you think?"

"I think you shouldn't be!" Why was he so angry? He didn't understand. Shouldn't he be pleased that he was finally escaping?

"Aww, it's so sweet that you're concerned about me, but I can take care of myself."

Concerned…? No. He wasn't. He would never be concerned about a human.

…would he?

"Come on," Wolfwood insisted, beckoning with a crooked finer. "Although this is technically an authorized access, they'll be wondering what their little bird is doing out of its cage."

"So they'll be coming soon," muttered Legato.

"That's right."

Legato wondered if he should wait until they arrived and then strangle a few, just to make a point. Then he remembered two things: Wolfwood grinning and the grey walls of the prison he was currently standing in…

Legato walked quickly over to Wolfwood. Quietly they slipped out of his cell, never looking back.

Legato had no idea where he was going, but followed Wolfwood who seemed to know the layout fairly well (although that was to be expected). A few inmates were awake as they walked through the dark building, but none of them called out or leered at him from between the bars as they usually did. They watched solemnly as he and Wolfwood ran, their faces suggesting they understood something that Legato couldn't begin to fathom. He felt strangely relieved to leave their looks behind and enter the artificial glare of a parking lot.

"I bought a new car under a false identity," Wolfwood said, his eyes already searching the lot. "Should throw 'em of for a while. By the time they figure it out we'll have ditched the car and – "

"Wait," said Legato.

Wolfwood turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Is it really the time for that?"

"Why are you doing this?" Legato demanded, determined to pry some answers out of this man. "You barely know me."

Wolfwood looked surprised, then amused. "I know you, Legato. What do you think we've been doing these past few months? I've been analyzing you, how you think and act and respond, just like you've been doing to me. We probably know more about each other better then we know anyone else." Suddenly he grinned in an almost feral expression. "Besides, its been getting a little boring around here. I wasn't born to babysit criminals, although it was fun while it lasted."

Legato was silent for a short moment, just drinking in the man in front of him. Such a strange man, unlike anyone he'd ever met or, he suspected, would ever meet. Although he'd never believed in destiny before, he wondered if fate had had some role in his meeting with man.

Then he realized it had been a long time since he had felt the touch of another human being on his skin. And though he had never been particularly interested in that sort of thing, he was somehow attracted to the thought of touching the man in front of him…

Legato leveled his gaze on Wolfwood.

"What?" the dark-haired man asked a bit nervously, sounding, for the first time in Legato's memory, flustered.

Legato took a slow step forward, and Wolfwood mimed him, taking a slow step back.

They continued this dance for a few prolonged seconds, until Wolfwood hit one of the pillars holding the structure in place. In a flash, Legato was upon him, stepping close – /too close,/ Legato's mind screamed, /much too close, this contact was pointless, meaningless, stop, this doesn't matter, none of it matters,/ but he couldn't help it, couldn't help but notice that this close Wolfwood's eyes were like two pools, deep, unfathomable. Couldn't help but lift his hand to cup the side of Wolfwood's face, couldn't help but feel the warmth under his fingers, a warmth that he never wanted to extinguish, he realized. Couldn't stop his fingers from sliding down, to settle on his throat, to feel the pulse, strong and steady, throbbing under his fingertips. Couldn't stop his arm from wrapping around the other man's muscular body, bringing them closer together.

Wolfwood lifted his hand and rested it on his wrist, almost as if he was trying to stop Legato, but both of them knew better. Wolfwood's eyes slid close.

Legato leaned forward a little, his eyes skimming Wolfwood's face. He noticed his flushed cheeks and clicking eyelids, noticed the way his breath trembled and the pulse underneath quickened. He also noticed his lips, slightly parted, begging...

He pressed his lips to Wolfwood's, felt the warmth of the other's lips permeate him, sending a strange fire scorching through. He'd never put much stock in common human signs of affection, but he suddenly understood why they made such a big deal about this whole kissing thing.

Acting partly on previously viewed actions and partly on pure instinct, Legato thrust his hips forward to grind against Wolfwood's body. Wolfwood's following gasp allowed Legato to push his tongue into the other's mouth, and he tasted the sharp and bitter taste of cigarettes which was probably a permanent flavor in the addict's mouth.

Wolfwood's touch on his wrist turned into a numbing grip, and he moaned, the sound vibrating through Legato's body.

He pulled his lips off of Wolfwood's, felt their chests press together as they both took a deep breath. Legato let his hand move to the back of Wolfwood's neck and let his lips move lightly over his neck, let his warm breath exhale and pool on the other's sensitive skin. Wolfwood arched into him, releasing his inhalation shakily.

Unexpectedly, Legato felt Wolfwood's hands on his shoulders, pushing him half-heartedly.

"What is it?" Legato asked, a touch impatiently.

Wolfwood looked at him, an intense look lingering in his eyes. "In case you forgot – which you clearly did (and almost made me too) – we're in the middle of breaking you out of jail. We shouldn't linger."

/Damn./ Legato _had_ forgotten. A touch reluctantly, he pulled away, experiencing a strange feeling of satisfaction when Wolfwood let out a tiny displeased sigh.

Wolfwood led them over to a non-descript looking car with tinted windows. He got into the driver's seat while Legato climbed into the passenger's side.

"You'd better appreciate this," announced Wolfwood as he started the car and shifted into drive. "Took me forever to find a car with tinted windows for sale. Apparently you have to have a prescription to get them legally." He grinned. "Luckily little old ladies are as gullible as they always were. I convinced her my eyes were dark because I had tinted contacts on, but the sun still hurt my eyes so I wanted a car with tinted windows."

"But won't this look suspicious?"

"Out in the country we'd stand out like a sore thumb. But remember, we have to escape the city first. And better to have a suspicious car whose occupants they don't know then a plain car whose occupants they do know. Besides, with all the cars that have tinted windows in this city, watching them all would be impossible."

Legato absorbed this. All his logic made perfect sense, and he absent mindedly speculated if Wolfwood had ever done something like this before.

Feeling he needed to do something, Legato let his fingers brush the back of one of Wolfwood's hands which was gripping the wheel so tightly and said something he thought he never hear fall from his lips.

"Thank you."

Wolfwood didn't respond. But he turned his hand and gently trapped Legato's smooth fingers between his own rough ones. And, for some reason, Legato found he didn't mind.

The car with the tinted windows drove on into the night, the lights of city glaring harshly down upon it. And the moon smiled down upon the earth…

OMG FIN~~~~~!


End file.
